


Unconditional

by GreenArcher



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, During Canon, Escape, First Meetings, Gen, Love, Marauders, Nostalgia, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4008139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenArcher/pseuds/GreenArcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's encounter with Sirius Black in Little Whinging, as written from the old marauder's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unconditional

**Author's Note:**

> There are some parts in this story that are a little rough/awkwardly phrased, but bear with me, I will fix them eventually. Thanks for reading!

_Clack clack clack._

Sirius's untrimmed paws clattered against the sidewalk as he raised his head and sniffed the air for anything out of the ordinary. There was still a lot of ground to travel before he reached Hogwarts, but the temptation was just too great. He had to see him, if only to catch a glimpse of him. His godson, Harry Potter.

Sirius still couldn't believe how lucky he was. To not only discover that Peter Pettigrew – the man who'd betrayed his best friends to Voldemort – was still alive, but to sneak out of Azkaban prison, completely undetected. His escape from that godforsaken place certainly hadn't been easy. The swim across the North Sea had nearly killed him; leaving him in a near-comatose state by the time he reached the English coast. He'd been fortunate enough to find a secluded spot on the shoreline to regain his strength, but the dreams he dreamt were highly unpleasant, full of Wormtail's squeaky laughter and the clammy hands of Dementors dragging him back to Azkaban. Even after he'd woken up and gained enough energy to move again, he could hardly call his new freedom a victory. He knew the Ministry wasn't going to take the disappearance of one of their most dangerous criminals lightly. Especially given that he was the first to escape in history. He had no time to lose if he wanted to catch Wormtail and avenge his best friends' deaths, for good.

Of course, returning to the real world meant that Sirius had many things to readjust to, too. He'd always prided himself on being the saner of his inmates, but when he'd lived in darkness for twelve years, robbed of any sense of day or night, even  _he_  had to admit that he wasn't the best at keeping track of time. Sometimes he was lucky enough to find a newspaper in the trash bin of a nearby village to tell him what day it was, but mostly he stayed clear of civilization, fearing his giant dog appearance would attract too much attention from locals. The last time he'd seen a newspaper was a week ago, passing through the town of Dereham. If he was correct, his godson would have been thirteen for nearly five days now.

Thirteen. Could James's son really be that old already? In Sirius's mind, he was still that little tyke zooming around on his toy broomstick, or that bawling baby Hagrid had flown out of Godric's Hollow with a bloody cut on his forehead. A cut, which since then, had grown into a lightning bolt-shaped scar. The mark of the boy who lived. Yes, even when imprisoned, Harry's fame still hadn't failed to reach the ears of Sirius and the other convicts of Azkaban. He was just as famous in there as he was out here.

Regretfully, Sirius knew very little of what had happened to Harry since his survival and defeat of You-Know-Who. What he did know was that he was now under the guardianship of Lily's sister, Petunia Dursley, a muggle who lived with her husband and son in Little Whinging. On Sirius's better days in Azkaban, he often wondered why Dumbledore had placed Harry with a family of muggles instead of a wizarding family, but he trusted the headmaster's judgment and knew there was a reason. For all he knew, maybe the reason was him. Even if Sirius hadn't cornered Wormtail on the street twelve years ago, he doubted he'd be sane enough to raise a baby while hunting down his best friends' killer.

* * *

Minutes turned into hours. Around noon, Sirius noticed a woman and a small child appear on the trail in front of him.

"Oh look mummy!" the girl said, tugging at the woman's arm anxiously. "It's a dog! It's a dog, mummy! Oh look at it! Can't I pet it? Please?"

The woman wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Of course you can't, sweetie. It's a filthy stray! Now get away from it before it makes you sick."

She took her daughter's hand and the both of them continued down the trail, avoiding the disguised fugitive entirely.

 _Smart move,_  Sirius thought as he watched them disappear down the trail _. I wouldn't pet me either if I knew I was a dangerous wizarding criminal._

But the brief encounter with the little girl and her mother gave Sirius pause to think. If the children in this part of Little Whinging were familiar with the Dursleys, perhaps Sirius could change out of his dog form and ask one of them if they knew a boy named Harry. He could say he was a relative who'd got lost taking the bus and wanted to make sure he was in the right neighbourhood. There was a muggle bus route not far from here; surely the question would seem innocent enough?

He crawled into the tall grass off the path, looking for a place to transform, when he heard a distorted voice wafting out of the backyard in front of him. It sounded like it was coming from one of those muggle radio boxes.

"… _He is in his early thirties, five foot ten and weighing at least one hundred and twenty pounds. The public is also warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hotline has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately."_

 _Bugger._  First Fudge, now the muggle law enforcement was out for him, too? If Sirius walked around the neighbourhood asking for his godson now, the muggles would call the hotline in an instant. He definitely wasn't going to find Harry that way.

Lowering his ears, Sirius walked out of the grass and continued down the path _. A few more hours,_ he told himself. If he didn't find James's son by evening, he'd move on and hope he'd still have time to see him when he got to Hogwarts.

* * *

More hours passed. The sun dipped low over the streets of Little Whinging, bathing the tiny houses in long, dark shadows and changing the sky to a dusty shade of blue. At first Sirius saw several children playing out in the streets, but as suppertime approached, they returned to their homes, leaving him alone in his search once more. Time was running out and his chances of finding Harry were growing bleaker and bleaker.

Then, just as he was passing by the house of number two Magnolia Crescent,  _he saw him._

Merlin, it was as though he was staring at the ghost of James Potter himself. The boy was sitting slouched against a low wall with a large trunk beside him, panting heavily as though he'd run a great distance. His black, unruly hair pointed out in all directions and a pair of circular wire-rimmed covered his eyes. He was also very thin. Thin as a broomstick Sirius would wager, but compared to the walking skeleton  _he_ looked like now, he still seemed considerably well fed.

After taking several minutes to catch his breath, Harry turned his back to Sirius and opened his trunk. The old marauder noticed the tip of a broom handle tucked among the boy's possessions and couldn't resist the chance to get a closer look. Prongs had been a phenomenal Quidditch player during his time at Hogwarts. Had he passed his gift on to his son, too?

He never got to find out. Suddenly, Harry spun around, causing Sirius to stop dead in his tracks. He knew the boy couldn't see him. He was well-hidden, standing in the shadows between the house and the fence beside him. But if he could? Well, it wouldn't do much harm, really. There were only two people alive now who knew Sirius was an animagus. He doubted that either of them were in touch with his godson right now …

 _"Lumos!"_ the boy shouted, lifting his wand and pointing it in Sirius's direction. Instantly, the alleyway was flooded in dazzling white light. Harry's eyes widened as he saw the black dog standing in front of the garage, watching him. The boy had green eyes. Green, just like his mother, Lily's.

After that, the rest was history. Harry stepped backwards and tripped over his trunk, sending his wand flying from his hands. Seconds later, a loud bang resounded across the street as the Knight Bus drove up next to the curb. Sirius knew it would be unwise to stick around after that.

But it didn't matter. He'd seen all he'd needed to see. James and Lily may have perished under the hand of Lord Voldemort, but their son Harry lived on. A warm, fuzzy feeling buzzed through the old marauder as he realized what this meant. He wasn't only going after Wormtail for himself. He was going after him for  _Harry._  So that one day he could sleep with the peace of mind, knowing that the parents who'd died defending him had finally been avenged. And if Sirius got thrown back into Azkaban for his crimes, so what? He'd go back as a hero, a hero who'd righted a terrible wrong. The boy likely wouldn't understand it now, but one day, someday he would.

 _I swear to you Harry, I will kill Wormtail if it's the last thing I ever do_ , he thought to himself. Then, before anyone else could see him, Sirius hurried down the street again, mission renewed with both fire and purpose.


End file.
